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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26341264">Jaskier and the Three Witchers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TokyoToyRide/pseuds/TokyoToyRide'>TokyoToyRide</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A Curse Made Them Do It, Accidental Bonding, Alpha Eskel (The Witcher), Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha Lambert (The Witcher), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Cursed Witchers, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Goldilocks and the Three Bears Elements, Hurt/Comfort, Knotting, M/M, Mating Bond, Mpreg, Multi, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Omega Verse, Oral Sex, Rimming, Top Eskel (The Witcher), Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Top Lambert (The Witcher), dubcon elements, mention of sexual slavery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:28:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,398</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26341264</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TokyoToyRide/pseuds/TokyoToyRide</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The witchers have disappeared, and no one knows why. One spring they just vanished into thin air. Jaskier, a damaged omega bard, decides to leave the relative comforts of Oxenfurt and travel until he can uncover the mystery. It will be his greatest ballad yet!<br/>He ends up finding something much more than what he bargained for...</p><p>Or, this is what happens when you let someone who can’t shut his trap try and write a “short” Goldilocks and the Three Bears inspired smut oneshot. Short oneshot my a**.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>269</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Damaged Bard</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For me, canon will forever be the books. But this AU piece can be enjoyed no matter which Witcher media you’ve consumed.</p><p>Smol warning: there’s a brief mention of sexual slavery.</p><p>The first chapter will be setting the story, and the second... well, that will be pure smut.</p><p>A huge thank you to my beta, the sweetest person under the Sun and the one person who’s constantly spurring me on, inspiring me to write more and filthier and longer: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/DriedFlowers/pseuds/DriedFlowers">DriedFlowers</a>!<br/>Any &amp; all remaining mistakes are my own.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier grows up hearing stories of the monster hunters that are more monsters than humans themselves. They travel the Continent, killing and banishing monsters for money, but he never gets to meet one. Then, one day, when Jaskier is thirteen years old, he hears the witchers have just… disappeared without a trace. That spring they just didn’t come back from where ever they hibernated, and the amount of monsters increased all through the known world. No one knows what happened — they don’t seem to even care, really — and while they had always despised the monster-like hunters, now they’re blaming them for leaving humanity alone in a time of need.</p><p>The year Jaskier turns fifteen he’s on his way home back from Oxenfurt and its world-famous academy, when he and his retinue are attacked. A horrendous spider-like monster creeps from the forest, taking down two horses and their riders within the first two seconds. While the stupefied guards are still grasping to understand what’s happening, the monster attacks the closest victim without hesitation. And it just happens to be the youngest and most vulnerable of them all; Jaskier. It manages to bite his arm before some of the guards finally draw their weapons and force it to back away.</p><p>For Jaskier, it’s too late. He can feel the venom running in his veins, and it <em>hurts</em>. He’s delirious, can’t really tell what’s happening anymore. It takes days for him to become coherent again, to find himself in his own bed in Lettenhove. Something feels different, somehow everything around him <em>smells</em> wrong. Jaskier doesn’t really feel <em>poisoned</em> anymore, but something is fundamentally wrong and ruined in him.</p><p>As he sits up on his bed, feeling just a little dizzy, he notices the court healer in there with him. <em>That’s odd</em>, he thinks, <em>why would the court healer be here?</em> The healer, and elder beta woman, looks at him with a weird expression on her face. He believes he can see some pity in those old eyes, and dismay.</p><p>“Took your time waking up, boy,” the healer says. “How are you feeling, then?”</p><p>“I… uh… little dizzy? What happened?”</p><p>“You were attacked by… something. Would need a witcher – may they rot in whatever cave they hid themselves in – to tell what it was, but its venom muddled up your body’s hormonal system. Maybe for good.”</p><p>Jaskier blanches. What did that <em>mean</em>? Muddled up his hormonal system?</p><p>“Well, I’ve stayed here longer than really needed to, already. I was called since you were to be included in His Highness Heribert’s harem, but since you’re now damaged goods…”</p><p>He is <em>what</em>. Jaskier could only gape, words failing him, as the elder woman leaves his room. Suddenly he’s all alone, dizzy, and confused. What was that talk about harem? How is he now <em>damaged goods</em>?</p><p>Jaskier was fifteen when he presented as an omega. He was fifteen when he was suddenly summoned back home from his studies. He was fifteen when he found out his family had promised to gift their only son, their omega son, to be their elder king’s plaything. He is fifteen when half the court finds out he isn’t quite an omega anymore. The poison had messed up his body, he can’t go into heat again, he doesn’t even smell like an omega anymore. He doesn’t smell like a beta or an alpha either. He doesn’t think he smells bad, per se, just wrong. Somehow twisted— hard to describe. He’s damaged, ruined, broken. He is sent back to Oxenfurt Academy while his family does their best to forget his very existence.</p><p>Jaskier is fifteen when he finds out that while many still look his way with want in their eyes, as soon as they get into scenting distance, everyone – even the mostly scent-insensitive betas – get this peculiar <em>look</em> on their faces and suddenly all Jaskier can see in their eyes is pity and dismay. Sometimes pure disgust. He is eighteen when he finally, <em>finally</em>, finds an apothecary that can make him potions that dampen his scent some. Not enough for him to secure a lover (his own hands stay his close friends thorough the teen years), but enough for him to be able to make friends and other people that will stay within few feet of him without turning up their noses.</p><p>He is nineteen when he meets the Countess de Stael. He falls in love, fast and hard, desperately. The countess is beautiful and confident, full of all that quiet strength only strongest of alphas can radiate without seeming arrogant. She is pure power and grace, and no one could fault him for falling for that. He writes his first lust poem. Then his first love poem. They are horrible, embarrassing little scribbles, but they’re straight from his heart. He hones his skills, both with the quill and the lute, like a man possessed, until he feels confidence in his skills. He might not be the sweet-scented dainty omega people wanted him to be, but he’s sure could be sweet and talented and <em>a good lover</em>.</p><p>They exchange looks. Then letters and small discussions, private smiles. The countess invites Jaskier to a party at her lavish town residence. Everyone important is invited.</p><p>That night, she corners him in a dark corner. He’s reciting the beginning of the poem he’s most proud of, when the countess pulls him closer, gets a whiff of his neck, and suddenly reels back. <em>Ah.</em> There’s no pity in her eyes, only disgust. She doesn’t say anything, just looks at him coolly for a long moment. Then she turns gracefully on her heels, and walks away. Jaskier doesn’t think her hitting or yelling at him could have hurt more than the silent but sure dismissal.</p><p>At least Valdo Marx, the obnoxious beta and thief of a bard, who’d been invited to the party as well, hadn’t been witnessing the scene.</p><p>Heartbroken, the bard wanders to the streets of Oxenfurt, and spends the night drinking and singing his pain away in a shady tavern. He is nineteen and he’s just beginning to understand how lonely his life might turn out to be. He is young, he is beautiful, he is talented, he is nobility. But not one of those things matter, not when no one can stand his scent. Not when he’s damaged as an omega.</p><p>It has been four years since his last heat, and he’s just beginning to understand he might never be able to have children. He sits downing shitty ale after shitty ale, wailing out mournful song after mournful song, until it’s morning and he can’t get up from the tavern’s sticky floor anymore. He passes out just like that, ignored and left utterly alone.</p><p>He is nineteen when he graduates with summa cum laude honours. He is twenty when he decides it’s time to leave Oxenfurt and his safe teaching post behind. He needs… something. Someone. Maybe there’s a mage somewhere outside Redania who can heal him – thanks to king Heribert’s prejudice, mages have avoided the country like plague. Or, who knows, maybe someone out there will want him as he is? Maybe out there is an alpha without a sense of smell who doesn’t want children?</p><p>Maybe pigs will soar the skies.</p><p>Jaskier sells most of his meagre possessions and packs light for the road. He doesn’t know where he’s going to go or if he will return, and it doesn’t really matter to him. All he really needs are his lute, some clothes, notebooks and large batch of the scent-damping potion. He’d met a dwarf called Zoltan Chivay, an adventurer, that was heading east with a group of other dwarfs and some merchants. He heads to the city’s main gates to collect his new horse Pegasus from the public stalls, and to meet his traveling companions. They head out of Oxenfurt within half an hour.</p><p>They spend months on the road, mostly following the Pontar river towards east and the kingdom of Kaedwen. Jaskier collects stories both from his companions and from the multiple towns and cities they stop at for a night or two, writing poems and songs, performing something every night. They run into monsters now and again, and Jaskier is very happy he chose to travel with seasoned adventurers. Now and again he hears people complaining about the witchers’ disappearance, and he begins to wonder…</p><p>There’s bound to be a story there. A story no one is reliably telling since it’s a story no one knows. Yet.</p><p>So Jaskier starts asking around in towns and cities. There’s got to be someone who knows where the witchers hid away to hibernate; if he could just find that location then maybe he’d find out the rest of the story as well. He could become world-famous, this could be his greatest masterpiece. His way to glory and fame: the story of the long-gone witchers!</p><p>Eventually the adventurous group arrives to Ard Carraigh, the capital of Kaedwen. It’s there, one autumn night, that Jaskier finds someone who claims to know the location of the witchers’ nest. <em>Gives me the creeps</em>, the elder omega man tells Jaskier, <em>no way anyone’s nearing those mountains – be the witchers gone or not</em>. He draws Jaskier a map to the right mountain after Jaskier’s bought him a few rounds.</p><p>Zoltan Chivay and the rest of the group are heading northwest, towards Aedd Gynvael. They have some business there and plans to stay in the city until the spring sun has melted the snows. Jaskier, if he’s to follow the map, is heading northeast. According to the map there should be a decent-sized town by the foot of the mountains, and he should be able to winter there, if need be. Zoltan doesn’t like his plan at all, the dwarf sure the bard will just get himself killed within days of parting with them. Which, while probably true, <em>rude</em>.</p><p>He won’t budge, though, and so the next morning Jaskier and Zoltan bid each other farewell. Zoltan lets him know they’ll pass through Ard Carraigh on their way next spring, so if Jaskier is still alive and willing to get back on the road, he can join the group again.</p><p>Jaskier is about to turn twenty-one — <em>still very much alive</em> — when he leaves the relative safety of what turned out to be a very small village standing at the foot of a mountain range. He’s told it would <em>probably</em> take two more weeks before snowfall, but that at the mountains you couldn’t ever know for sure. He decides the risk is worth taking. Who’s going to miss him, if something happens, anyway? On the other hand, if he finds something remarkable out there and comes back with a tragic ballad based on true story, the story will be all his. His name would be on everyone’s lips for years to come.</p><p>Wrapped tightly in his layers of warm furs and wools, the lute tied to his back, and other luggage securely tied to Pegasus he begins the long ascend.</p><p>The mountain air is cold and fresh food is scarce. Jaskier walks most of the time; Pegasus is working hard enough carrying all their food and other supplies in the uneven terrain as is. Slowly but surely they get closer to the valley his map marks as the witchers’ nest. The terrain is even more dangerous and unpredictable than he’d previously thought. He hadn’t believed an old mountain road overcome by the wilderness to be an easy trek by any means, but this is getting ridiculous.</p><p>On the morning of first snow Jaskier realises he’s screwed.</p><p>He should be within few hours of the witchers’ nest, and he’s been out there on the mountains for two weeks, now. He should have turned back right away when he noticed how difficult the terrain was, but… he hadn’t, had he? There is no way he could safely trek down the mountain paths while it’s snowing and frost is covering the ground. Now he’s stuck up here and he’ll just have to deal with it. Somehow. If he has any luck the witchers’ nest will offer shelter, maybe even something to eat. With his luck, though, he’s arrived to the wrong valley altogether.</p><p>Well, no sense dwelling on it. Jaskier extinguishes the small fire he had going and packs up. Pegasus seems as eager as him to continue their journey, and so they set out again.</p><p>Within a few hours <em>his ass</em>. It’s starting to get dark before Jaskier can finally spy an old and dark building a little ahead at the end of the overgrown road. The whole day has been on-and-off snowing. The building ahead is walled and intimidating, and rises high above the treetops, sitting on a huge cliff. Jaskier blinks. He had thought the nest to be something like a cave, but here he is, looking at an old but obviously well-kept keep. There isn’t even traces of any vines trying to climb up the outer walls.</p><p>Taking in the sight, Jaskier swallows down his dread and forces optimism to the forefront of his mind. It’s a sturdy, spacious building, it will protect him from the elements. It might even have storages full of food. He just might survive until the next spring. Pegasus isn’t very keen to walk up the road, across the drawbridge, into the keep’s courtyard, but he follows Jaskier obediently enough. Maybe he wants to get out of the open where snow is just starting to fall from the sky again.</p><p>It looks lived in. There’s foot and hoof prints in the thin layer of snow in the courtyard, and Jaskier can see the warm light of a fire from few of the windows. He notices a stall and takes Pegasus inside.</p><p>”Here’s good and warm for you, boy. Oh, there’s even oat here. I’m sure the residents don’t mind us borrowing some, hmm?” he chatters to the gelding, in order to calm both of their nerves. He takes his good time taking care of Pegasus before he decides it time to go find the keep’s residents.</p><p>Jaskier walks briskly to what he deems the keep’s main entrance and knocks. He waits for just half a second before pushing the door open and stepping inside. It’s… dark, a little cold and terrifying, but looks clean and dry. The furniture is scarce and ascetic. But it’s not the looks of the place that raise the hair at the back of his neck. Oh no, it’s the almost overwhelmingly strong scent of alpha, the very walls smell like saturated with it. Nervously he clutches to his belongings and wonders if he should take another dose of his potion, just in case. He doubts there’s been a single omega in this hallway in decades, if ever.</p><p>As he walks further inside, taking in the vast and dark hall around him, he notices a closed door to his right. There’s a hint of firelight that shines from a crack underneath it. Taking a deep breath to calm his heart – what if there are <em>witchers</em> inside?? – Jaskier pushes it open. He finds himself inside a warm kitchen, fire in the hearth roaring and the delicious scent of food filling the space. But not one living person around that he can see. Luckily, no dead persons in sight either. There’s a table with several chairs around it, and three of those have empty bowls and tankards in front of them.</p><p>Suddenly the air is filled with a <em>growl</em>. A loud one. Jaskier jumps, heart in his throat, until he realises it was his own hungry stomach making the horrid noise.</p><p>One last, hesitating look cast around the room, and then he’s carefully dropping his belongings on top of an empty chair. He picks up one of the bowls and eagerly goes to the hearth to examine the hearty stew boiling by it. He uses a ladle found close-by to fill the plate with the steaming food and bring it back to the table. While waiting for the stew to cool a little he roams around the room, finding a door to pantry, and pilfers some pieces of bread and a tankard of mead.</p><p>The food is delightful. Delicious. Heavenly. It deserves a ballad, no doubt. A ballad of the stew in the witchers’ abandoned keep. Humming happily Jaskier chugs down the rest of his mead, yawning contentedly. He’s idly wondering about the scents floating around the space; the ever present strong alpha scent, but also something… weird. Not unnatural, but like the nature’s very scent strengthened, somehow. It smells like summer rain and damp soil, even with all the snowing happening outside. It’s calming and arousing at the same time. And the longer Jaskier spends inside, the more he can sense his own warped scent changing. He can feel himself growing warmer and relaxing further. It’s a conflicting feeling; he’s still on edge with the alpha scent, but also feeling safer and warmer than he can remember ever being before.</p><p>He shrugs mentally; it must be just that he’s had a long fortnight. A long fortnight, on top of which he’d found an old, empty fort. And now he’s in a warm room with belly full of food; it would be weirder if he didn’t feel conflicted about it.</p><p>Jaskier gets up, yawning and stretching, and casts one last furtive look around the kitchen. While it’s warm and comfortable, there doesn’t seem to be anything soft enough to take a nap on top of. He does have his pallet, but can’t help wondering if the keep had a bed to offer, too. He should probably try and find the masters of the keep, anyway, before he falls asleep. He’s just fed their oat to his horse and eaten their food, after all. It wouldn’t do to make them upset by letting them find a sleeping food thief.</p><p>With his belongings back on his back, Jaskier leaves the kitchen in search of the people living in there. He’s just a little disappointed it seems to be a human residence, after all. All the stories told witchers spent winters in caves they’d conquered from other monsters. Maybe this was an old elven castle a group of adventurers had decided to move into once the witchers had disappeared?</p><p>The first floor’s hall seems as empty as before he’d entered the kitchen, so he ponders between two staircases. Eventually he picks the staircase by the kitchen, leading upwards.</p><p>The second floor seems just as empty as the first had been. Jaskier spends a while walking along the corridor, opening doors and checking the insides – he finds a library, a hall, an armoury, bedrooms… Oh, the beds inside seem very inviting. Very, very inviting indeed.</p><p>After a while Jaskier realises he’s stood by a bedroom door for minutes, just blearily staring at the bed inside. The fireplace is lit, it’s warm and smells good. He tries to force himself to turn around, to go back downstairs and keep looking for the masters of the keep, but… he finds he just can’t do that. He slips inside the room and closes the door behind him. There’s not much furniture in there, just a desk and a chair by the window, the bed and a small shelf filled with books.</p><p>The bed is big and full of blankets and furs, the air smells faintly of smoke and strongly of alpha and the weird earthy scent from before. Jaskier puts carefully his belongings in a corner and hastily pulls his outer robes off his body before, with a final guilty glance at the door, slips under the furs and blankets. He sighs happily; it’s doubtful he’s ever been so warm and happy before. The weird scents of the place feel like a physical hug around him, lulling him to sleep within seconds.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Smut starts in the next chapter! TBP soon... (tomorrow, perhaps?)!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Three Witchers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The witchers come back home to find Goldilo— well, Jaskier.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Is it just me or is it getting hot in here?</p><p>A huge thank you to my beta, the sweetest person under the Sun and the one person who’s constantly spurring me on, inspiring me to write more and filthier and longer: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/DriedFlowers/pseuds/DriedFlowers">DriedFlowers</a>!<br/>Any &amp; all remaining mistakes are my own.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What. The fuck. Are. You.”</p><p>Jaskier starts awake. There’s someone, a big someone, standing by the open door, staring at him. The stranger’s looks are hard to decipher in the dimness of the room, but to Jaskier he looks like a bear standing on its hind legs. Hastily he scrambles backwards, the furs and blankets slipping away from his body.</p><p>“The fuck are you doing in here?” the stranger growls.</p><p>“I… I’m sorry?” Jaskier starts. “I got lost and… I tried to knock and all, but couldn’t hear or find anyone and I was just—” He stops abruptly when the stranger stalks into the room and towards him, letting the door bang closed behind his back. “I… uh… Sorry for falling asleep on your bed? I’ll just—”</p><p>“Not my bed, Eskel’s,” the man mumbles, distracted and brows furrowed. He stops just a step away from the bed, close enough that if he reached just a little, he could touch Jaskier. All Jaskier can do is stare, eyes wide and a shiver running down his spine. It’s not a bear on its hind legs, after all, but a man. A very muscular man. He feels hot all of a sudden, the stranger’s strong alpha scent heady, surrounding him. But not just that, it smells altered, like a mix of an alpha and the earthy scent, merged together.</p><p>Suddenly Jaskier feels like… like when he went into heat all those years ago. Is he…? Oh shit, he is, isn’t he? The stranger is staring at him intently, and Jaskier can only watch as he slowly lifts one of his knees onto the bed, leaning closer and into the bard’s space. He smells so good, just a whiff of him hits Jaskier harder than five tankards of strong beer, so now that he crawls closer it makes the bard’s head spin.</p><p>Jaskier slides down on his back again, heart pounding as he lets the stranger climb atop of him, straddling his waist. Just barely brushing against his hard-on. He finally gets a proper view of the man as he takes Jaskier’s wrists and pulls them upwards on the bed, until they’re resting above the young bard’s head. The stranger has long dark brown hair and dark, wide blown amber eyes. He looks mean, somehow, but currently his expression is just full of hunger. Jaskier shivers, wondering if he’ll be eaten alive. Wondering, if he would even mind if he is. He can feel something wet and slick between his legs, the feeling instantly heating his face.</p><p>
  <em>Well this isn’t embarrassing at all…</em>
</p><p>Suddenly there’s a cold hand slipping under Jaskier’s chemise, running up towards his torso, bundling up the fabric. Jaskier can’t help gasping aloud at the feeling, tugging helplessly at his hands that the stranger is holding with one strong hand. It feels good, having someone touch him, hold him down. It’s been so long since someone’s been this close to him, this intimate. Jaskier moans softly as the stranger dips down, and licks at his throat, growling non stop now. The bard keens and tries to buck his hips upwards, desperate to get some friction. He can feel his reason slipping away from him, replaced with sheer <em>lust and need</em>.</p><p>He barely notices as the stranger nudges him to lift his hips, and then pulls his trousers off. It barely registers to his mind as his chemise is lifted, pulled and twisted around his wrists until they’re tied to the bed-frame. He’s naked in a strange keep, on a stranger’s bed, with a stranger sitting — fully clothed except for now opened breachers — on top of him. A thick, hard cock juts obscenely out, curving left a little. The sight should probably bother him, he thinks.</p><p>Then the stranger’s tongue is back on his skin, he’s licking and nibbling around his navel and stomach, his now free hands roaming. All thoughts leave Jaskier’s head, he can just gasp for breath and try to arch his back to get closer to the rough touches. He can feel the hot, pulsating cock nudging against his, both of them drooling pre-cum and staining the bard’s stomach. Jaskier can just feel his eyes rolling backwards and mouth falling open as the man wraps a fist around their lengths, and starts jerking them in fast, unforgiving pace.</p><p>He thinks he can hear a faint “Lambert, did you find the intruder?” from the corridor, but he can’t be sure.</p><p>Just as the stranger’s other hand starts lifting Jaskier’s leg up, the door bursts open violently. The stranger doesn’t even react, but Jaskier can’t help lolling his head towards the noise. He can just take in the sight of two more bear-like strangers by the door, before his eyes close as he feels an orgasm pulled out of him. Distantly he notices the stranger cumming, too, hinted by his cursing and his now shaking hands. His stomach is stained with something wet and sticky. He feels the man pull away, and suddenly there’s a hot mouth around his still hard, now slightly oversensitive cock.</p><p>“Ah, mmhh, hnnnn,” Jaskier moans, tugging pitifully at his restricted arms. The hot mouth on him feels so, so good. If Jaskier was in control of his mental capacities, he would believe he’d died and went straight into Heaven. And then, to the lowest circle of Hell, as suddenly the mouth is pulled away from him with a violent snarl that could be heard from somewhere above them. <em>Rude</em>.</p><p>Confused, Jaskier pries his eyes open and sees the other two strangers looking down at him by the bed. One of them, a milky-haired one, looks concerned and it seems he’d just thrown the first stranger away from the bed. Then he takes a contemplating look at the third stranger, a large man with dark hair and a long scar running down the side of his face, as if to decide if he should throw him away as well.</p><p>“You… You need to leave. Right now, it’s not safe here,” the milky-haired man says. His voice is gruff, giving the impression like he’s constantly annoyed with everything and everyone. But even he’s looking down at Jaskier’s body with want in his eyes now.</p><p>“What..? Why? <em>Who</em> are you?”</p><p>“No time to explain. It won’t take long until the curse’s effects hit me, as well.” He takes a quick glance at the scarred stranger who’s backed away to take a look at the first stranger, who’s lifting himself from the floor, before leaning towards Jaskier to quickly untie his wrists. “You need to <em>leave</em>. This is <em>not</em> a safe place for an unbound omega like you.”</p><p>“What…? The curse…?” The world is spinning around Jaskier and he can’t quite concentrate on the man’s words.</p><p>The man just huffs, grabbing at Jaskier’s arm to pull him upwards. The world spins around Jaskier, and he can’t help moaning again. His head is fuzzy, he doesn’t feel like talking. Or going away. Jaskier’s head lolls again, and unconsciously he slips a hand between his legs to rub his fingertips at his wet entrance. Wet… he’s really in heat again, isn’t he? He lets out a hysterical laugh. The milky-haired stranger tries but fails at getting Jaskier to stand up on his own feet, instead getting his arms full of the lithe omega. Jaskier tries to not be mortified by the fact that he’s now rubbing his cum-stained stomach against this hot stranger.</p><p>“Eskel, are you still in control of yourself?” the man suddenly turns to growl at the scarred stranger. “Take Lambert out of here, I’ll see if I can get this omega dressed and out on his way.”</p><p>The scarred man, Eskel, just stares back at them with his pupils blown wide, pulling at his clothes. Next to him, the first stranger — Lambert? — is sitting up, giving the man that had thrown him away a nasty, feral look.</p><p>“For fuck’s sake…” the milky-haired man growls. Jaskier doesn’t really get what the man is so upset about — he’s got the prettiest possible omega in his arms, pliant and willing and in <em>heat</em>, he should be thrilled. It’s insulting, really, that the man is still sparing thoughts at anything but fucking Jaskier senseless. The bard huffs and lifts his hands around the man’s neck. He doesn’t really care much who’s it going to be, he just needs some good dicking and knotting right about <em>now</em>. So he wiggles his hips, wraps his hands tighter around the stranger’s strong neck and leans in to take in the heady scent. It’s so close to Lambert’s scent that Jaskier absentmindedly decides the two must be family.</p><p>“Please,” Jaskier gasps against the man’s neck, mouthing just below his ear. “I need…”</p><p>He lets out a surprised, high-pitched laugh, when the milky-haired stranger’s hands take a strong hold at his waist and push him against the wall right by the bed. Jaskier feels the back of his head hit the cold stone, but he can’t be bothered to complain since the man’s tongue is doing some pretty impressive magic on his neck. He’s licking, nibbling, even properly biting at some point. Not at his scent gland, but <em>very</em> close. So very close to tying them together as mates for the rest of their lives.</p><p>And then there are more hands and mouths on his skin, as first Eskel and then Lambert scramble towards the two and reach to touch Jaskier where ever they can. He and the milky-haired man are pulled away from the wall, and then he’s deliciously squished between the three big men. His head bends backwards to rest on one of their shoulders, and he can just shiver, moan and writhe at their attention. It’s all blurry, but he vaguely notices the three alpha pulling their clothing off until they’re all naked against each other.</p><p>Just as he’s about to beg for more, someone silences him with a kiss. A hot mouth is fitted against his, biting gently at his lips and coercing him to open his them for an invading tongue. Another mouth is latched onto his neck. The men’s hands roam around his body, groping and fondling freely. Someone is jerking him off with a big, warm fist, while another is spreading his cheeks to easier reach to tease at his entrance. Someone is rubbing his stomach, collecting the drying cum with sure fingers, and then bringing them between the lips of Jaskier and the man kissing him, slipping them inside. The taste is exquisite – just a little bitter, and plenty sweet. Like omega in heat. Like <em>Jaskier in heat</em>. He hums happily, his soft voice drowning under the three alpha’s constant growling.</p><p>Suddenly there’s a warm finger, not only teasing at his hole, but slowly pushing inside. It’s wet — probably with Jaskier’s own slick — and slides in effortlessly. He lifts a leg off the floor to give the hand even better access, and is delighted to feel strong hands wrapping around it, keeping it afloat. And then suddenly there’s another hand grabbing Jaskier’s other leg and lifting it up as well. The kiss abruptly ends and the hand around his cock slips away, as strong arms lift and turn him until he’s suspended face down and ass up around the height of the men’s waists. His legs are pulled wide open to accommodate one of the men standing between them.</p><p>He notices one hard cock right in front of his face and cranes his neck until he can get his mouth on it. Someone, presumably the cock’s owner, groans in low voice, and the man’s hips gyrate slowly closer until Jaskier’s mouth is filled with the heavy, big and salty hardness. Through half-lidded eyes Jaskier spies a map of old scars running along the alpha’s body.</p><p>Another man curses somewhere to Jaskier’s right and he feels his wrist grabbed and brought to another hard-on. He wraps his fingers around it and gives it a few appreciating tugs before starting to properly jerk the stranger’s length. The position is just a little awkward, since the stranger is to his side, holding Jaskier up by the underneath of his right shoulder and right thigh.</p><p>The bard slowly opens his eyes to see… well, not much, really, just the nicely defined abs of the scarred man he’s sucking off, and his white pubic hair whenever the man’s thrusting hips pull backwards. Jaskier’s left hand is wrapped around the man’s right arm that’s helping to keep him suspended. The stranger’s left hand is caressing Jaskier’s hair, slipping down the side of his face to pet at his face and throat now and again, too.</p><p>He nearly chokes on the cock in his mouth, as another finger carefully pushes into him from behind. The man behind him shuffles a little, and he feels his legs pulled open even wider than they’d been before. Two fingers now massage him from the inside relentlessly, and — oh dear, sweet, almighty Melitele is that a <em>tongue</em> circling his hole? It’s the most peculiar feeling he’s ever felt, but damn him to the lowest levels of hell if it isn’t pleasurable. The fingers and now the tongue fuck into him slowly and gently, breaking him in the best possible way. It feels almost too much as the fingertips brush precisely against his oversensitive prostate with every third push and pull.</p><p>The man he’s sucking off seems to appreciate the constant moaning and keening, the sounds trying to escape Jaskier’s throat and instead caressing the cock with constant vibrations. He’s now pushing in deeper and faster than before, huffing with each push. The hand caressing Jaskier’s head turns into fingers wrapped almost painfully around in his hair, tugging in the rhyme of him fucking Jaskier’s mouth.</p><p>There are tears in the bard’s eyes, and he’s just on the right side of feeling overwhelmed with all the sensations and the scents floating in the air. The arousal, the alpha, his slick, the earthy scents all mix together and make it hard to do anything but just let the lust take the wheel. He doesn’t <em>want</em> to do anything but let the lust take the wheel, really. Isn’t this something he’d been hoping for, back when he decided to leave Oxenfurt? His toes curl in constant pleasure.</p><p>And then he feels the tongue leave his rim and the man between his legs shift again. After a short moment of wondering why the warm, prodding fingers had to vacate his opening as well, he shuts his eyes tight as something big and blunt pushes against it. After just two gentle nudges it starts pushing in, gently but never ceasing, until Jaskier can feel the head of a cock breach him.</p><p>The thing is. Jaskier has played around with his fingers and his toys. Having something stuffed into him isn’t exactly <em>new</em> to him, no matter how he’d never had anyone else doing it to him before. But the feeling of a warm, pulsating, flesh and bone — or at least the cock inside him feels solid enough to have a bone within — cock pushing into him is something else entirely. He can feel his slick almost flooding outside of him, and under any other circumstance he’d be mortified. But as he is now, he can only concentrate on the immense pleasure he gets from the cocks in his ass, in his mouth and in his fist.</p><p>After few agonising minutes, all the while his throat and fist are fucked in almost punishing tempo, the man between Jaskier’s legs finally bottoms out, his hips hitting the backs of Jaskier’s thighs. If the bard’s mouth wasn’t so full he’d sigh out in relief – the cock is insanely long, he’d thought it would never end trying to get deeper and deeper. As it is, it’s almost like the two cocks fucking into him could touch and rub against each other inside him, that’s how deep it feels.</p><p>He barely registers how limp he’s gotten, constantly forgetting to jerk the cock in his right hand and being reminded by impatient tugging and cursing. He’s so full, so used, so warm, floating there held up between the three strong men. His mouth is full of salty and slightly bitter taste, his nose ticklish in the coarse white pubic hair. He barely hears the snarling and rough orders thrown above him, and is surprised as the blessed cock pulls out of his ass. There’s some shuffling around, his mouth still occupied and his hair pulled deliciously, and he absentmindedly notices the other two men — Eskel and Lambert or something — changing places with each other.</p><p>Then there are rough hands around his thighs, tilting his hips upwards again, and finally a cock pushes back into him. It feels different than the one — Eskel’s? — before; shorter but also thicker, and the man between his legs now is clearly more impatient than the first one had been. For a short moment Jaskier wonders if he should get worried for his safety, but even the brisk pace and hard pushes don’t feel painful with how wet and relaxed he is. With this faster rhythm his prostate can get no peace from the constant onslaught of stimulation.</p><p>He has half a mind to try and wrap his fingers around the cock that had been inside him just a minute ago, but as he’s reaching outwards, his arm is grabbed and pulled into another direction, so that the man can hold him up more easily. He also steps closer to Jaskier’s body and that brings the hot, wet cock against the bard’s side. The bigger man lets out a stuttering breath, and he starts fucking earnestly against the ribs, the cock constantly slipping under Jaskier’s to nudge against his right nipple.</p><p>“Mmm… ah, yeah…” comes a rough moan behind Jaskier. “I think I… Yeah… I’m going to knot him…”</p><p>Jaskier lets out a startled shout as he suddenly finds himself tossed onto the bed so fast he didn’t even realise when one cock left his mouth and another was pulled out of his ass. He whimpers, a shivering mess on the bed, and feels suddenly cold. There he was, feeling good and almost ready to cum, for the first time with someone inside of him, and now he finds himself tossed aside. Just like that.</p><p>There’s shouting and snarling happening behind him but he can’t be bothered to turn around to look. He just bends, instinctively pushing his face down into the mattress and his ass high up in the air, desperately trying to lure an alpha to fuck him again by presenting to the three of them. His fingers and toes curl as he waits, cold and alone, for one of the men to have mercy on him. He can even feel a tear or two escape from the corners of his eyes.</p><p>Finally, finally, he feels a warm palm touching the small of his back, soothing him as another hand guides him to tip his hips just a little further upwards. A warm body wraps around him and a hot, wet hardness presses into him. Once again it’s… different. Must be the third stranger, the one he’d been sucking off until now. The cock is so long and hard and thick. Jaskier could yell. He could sing. He could recite poetry out of sheer happiness. He’s full again, warm again, taken care of again. Jaskier opens his teary eyes to see a sheet of milky-white hair falling around him, as the man fucking him pushes his face into Jaskier’s neck and bites him. It all feels obscenely good.</p><p>“Ah, ah, ah,” the breathy sounds are punched out of him in rabid succession. He moans and writhes, not sure if he’s trying to push backwards to meet the pounding hips and to get the cock even deeper inside, or to crawl away. There’s a strong hand holding his down against the mattress just when he tries to slip it between his legs to jerk himself. And then there’s fingers pinching and rubbing his nipple. The teeth nibbling and biting his neck are sharp, the jaw strong – but he’s not breaching skin. Yet, at least. Though it’s once again very close to his scent gland.</p><p>The bed dips as Eskel and Lambert climb up on it, next to the white haired man fucking into Jaskier like no one’s business. The omega isn’t sure how much longer his until recently virgin hole and prostate can take this. He’ll be surprised if he isn’t completely bruised by morning. But it feels so, so good… As do the firm touches where Eskel and Lambert can reach to caress his skin, one of them laying down next to him and the other sitting by Jaskier’s head. There’s finally a hand on his cock, too, easily jerking him to the pace he’s fucked.</p><p>Suddenly Jaskier’s eyes open wide and a small “oh” escapes from between his lips. There’s something <em>new</em> happening, right where he’s connected to the other man. None of Jaskier’s toys has ever done anything like this. He’s read about it, heard about it, <em>dreamed</em> about it – and now, finally, there’s a fat knot firming just inside of his rim. It’s so big, the sensation fills Jaskier’s eyes with fresh tears and his moans turn almost into sobs. He’s never been so full, it’s bordering the bad sort of painful. The knot catches, and the previously long and fast pushes slow down to small, hard ones as the man can’t pull out more than an inch without risking hurting the omega.</p><p>“Get out of him, Geralt you idiot!” growls someone, pushing at the man inside Jaskier. That causes Jaskier to cry out in distress; suddenly he’s scared, terrified. The knot is uncomfortable enough as is, he doesn’t want to know how much it’ll hurt if it’s ripped out of him. The pushing stops abruptly, and instead the previous growler – Eskel – reaches out to rub soothingly at Jaskier’s hip. “Shit, I’m so sorry! Are you— Is this hurting you? I’m so sorry—”</p><p>But Jaskier can only sob, still afraid and clenched so hard around the alpha’s cock he’s probably causing both of them quite some discomfort, to put it mildly. But the man behind him doesn’t pull out or scold him; he just grunts before murmuring something soft and gentle to Jaskier’s neck. Both of his hands now gently massage the omega’s sides and flanks. His voice is low and gruff, he’s clumsy but eager in his soothing. Jaskier feels his head lifted up gently and guided sideways until Lambert can lay a kiss on his lips. It’s so soft and warm, that combined with the white-haired man’s – Geralt’s — touches he can feel himself starting to relax again.</p><p>After a while the alpha tied to him wraps his hands securely around Jaskier’s waist and torso and lifts him into an upwards position. Jaskier let’s himself be moved around until he’s sitting on the alpha’s knot and leaning backwards, his back resting against Geralt’s front. The position pushes Geralt deeper inside him, but it doesn’t really hurt anymore. It also allows Eskel to lean forward, to take Jaskier’s cock into his hot mouth. It makes Jaskier shout out, back bowing as his muscles pull taut. His fingers twist into the man’s brunet hair almost at their own volition.</p><p>Jaskier pants, hot puffs of air pushing out of his lungs, as Geralt slowly starts fucking into him again, in small and steady upwards pushes. In this position the knot barely teases at Jaskier’s rim, staying firmly inside him and massaging his sensitive prostate without pause. The omega believes he could positively melt against the muscular chest he’s leaning to, or in the hot mouth sucking him off, when he suddenly becomes aware of two thumbs prying his mouth open further.</p><p>He blinks, taking into the sight of a hot, knot-based cock in front of his face. Lambert’s raised up on the bed so that his groin is at Jaskier’s eye-level. He’s gently but firmly holding Jaskier’s face between his hands, thumbs encouraging him to keep the mouth wide open. Lambert teases the omega’s lips with his cock head, letting the moaning bard land just a few hasty licks at the slit, before he moves and let’s Jaskier’s mouth push against the base of his cock instead. Jaskier mouthes and licks at the thick knot, wondering how one of those could possibly fit inside him and even feel good, too.</p><p>He clenches around said knot just a little, delighted at the hiss that comes out the alpha. It also causes the knot to nudge more firmly against his prostate, making the bard see stars. Hungrily he dives his head until he gets Lambert’s cock properly into his mouth, sucking and licking to his best effort. Eskel isn’t about to be outdone, either; he takes Jaskier so deep the omega’s head pushes against the back of his throat.</p><p>Suddenly Geralt groans and stiffens against Jaskier’s back. Jaskier blinks owlishly as he feels something almost burning hot spurt inside him, the alpha panting and cursing softly against his neck. He’s pulled flush against the man — off the cursing Lambert’s cock — the pulsating cock and hard knot push just a little further inside Jaskier, and he can feel the sporadic sprays of cum fill him deep inside. Lambert has taken one of his hands from Jaskier’s face to jerk himself off, and soon he’s groaning too, cumming on Jaskier’s face and neck – just barely avoiding Geralt’s face.</p><p>Eskel is still deep throating Jaskier, one hand jerking furiously between his own legs, and Jaskier can only gaze down dazedly, too tired and tied on the knot to really move a muscle. He tries to give the brunet a warning before he cums, but is just a little too late. The alpha chokes just a little, slowly pulling away to lick Jaskier clean. The bard, for his part, thinks he’s turned into a puddle of goo. Only Geralt’s arms and knot are keeping him upwards anymore, there’s not an ounce of strength left in his body. The alpha is gnawing his scent gland, still shooting burning loads of cum every few minutes. As his vision turns blessedly black Jaskier wonders how long the alpha can keep doing that, and if Jaskier can take it all without bursting open.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Now that we got some smut out of our systems, next will be some Feelings TM!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Broken Curse</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Feelings! That’s what happens after the steamy foursome.<br/>Let’s all blame Lambert for everything, yeah?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A huge thank you to my beta, the sweetest person under the Sun and the one person who’s constantly spurring me on, inspiring me to write more and filthier and longer: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/DriedFlowers/pseuds/DriedFlowers">DriedFlowers</a>!<br/>Any &amp; all remaining mistakes are my own.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Weren’t you supposed to take him safely out of the keep before this could happen?”</p><p>“So, just because it took a minute longer for the curse to effect me, this is all my fault now?”</p><p>“That’s not what I said! You just—”</p><p>“Shut your traps,” Lambert snaps. “Shouldn’t we be happy the curse seems to be lifted now?”</p><p>“But at what cost.” The question comes out so flat it’s not really even a question.</p><p>“At a cost that wasn’t ours to decide,” Eskel’s soft, remorseful voice answers.</p><p>“Oh… Think he’s going to complain to Vesemir?”</p><p>“It’d be well within his rights to cut all our throats before he gets to that,” Geralt’s sullen voice mutters.</p><p>“And whether he tells Vesemir or not, if he doesn’t slit our throats, Vesemir will know what happened and do it himself.”</p><p>Jaskier blinks his eyes open slowly, taking in the sight before him. The three alpha are sitting side by side on the edge of the bed, their backs turned to the bard. While Jaskier notices he’s still stark naked under the blankets and furs, the alpha have all pulled trousers on. They tense as Jaskier lifts his torso from the bed, leaning heavily on one arm. He’s bruised and exhausted and sated in a way he’s never been before. And confused. He isn’t going to let these men’s throats be cut before he gets his stories out of them.</p><p>“Who are you? What’s this place?” Jaskier rasps. One of the men, Eskel, takes a glimpse at him and hurries to get Jaskier a glass of water from the table. The omega accepts it readily and gulps the glass down in seconds.</p><p>“I... I’m Eskel, these are my …brothers, sort of. Geralt and Lambert,” Eskel starts hesitantly. “And you have come to Kaer Morhen, the Wolf School of Witchers.”</p><p>“Former school…” Lambert mutters somewhat bitterly.</p><p>School… School? Of witchers? Weren’t they just savage beasts hunting other beasts? Jaskier decides it’s probably safer not to ask that aloud, at least not quite yet.</p><p>“I… okay…? You wouldn’t happen to… know what happened? To the witchers, I mean.” He gets three sets of confused amber eyed stares at him.</p><p>“Well…” Eskel coughs finally. “You could say a curse happened. You see, one of us —“ He’s shooting an accusing look at Lambert, who looks petulantly at the fireplace. “— angered a very powerful sorceress and got the three of us cursed.”</p><p>“Oh… <em>Oh</em>! You mean you’re—?”</p><p>“We’re witchers, yes. Three of the four remaining wolf school witchers,” Eskel confirms. Jaskier can only gape at the three of them. They seem complet— well, mostly normal, like humans. Sure, they’re muscular and impossibly strong, and their eyes are this peculiar amber colour, but they don’t seem like the child-eating monsters most of the stories paint them as.</p><p>“You don’t really look the part,” the bard finally blurts out. “I don’t see any horns or tusks or talons on you!”</p><p>“We used to be humans like you,” Geralt mutters, avoiding eye contact. “Listen—“</p><p>“What was the curse you mentioned?” Jaskier continues before Geralt can finish his sentence. This causes Geralt to snap his mouth shut and clench his jaw. He doesn’t seem angry at being interrupted, more like he’d somehow lost his courage.</p><p>“Uh…” Eskel starts, taking a fast, mildly panicked look at his white-haired brother. “You see, the sorceress Lambert angered happened to be an omega, and… it seems that this moron angered her with his <em>pregnancy kink</em>, knowing full well that mages – just like us witchers – are sterile and can’t produce offspring.”</p><p>“Hey I resent that!”</p><p>“So,” Eskel continues, ignoring Lambert, “She cursed the keep, and all three of us inside during the time, so that whenever we met an omega we’d go into an uncontrollable rut until one’s knocked up.” Eskel’s face is scarlet red.</p><p>“I… huh?” Jaskier starts. He lifts one hand to rub at his lower belly. “Didn’t you just say you were sterile?”</p><p>“Well, yes. I’d imagine she worded it poorly and just meant …knotting. Knotting and what comes with it.”</p><p>“He means filling an omega with cum to the brim,” Lambert cackles. His laughing stops suddenly as Geralt punches him and the juvenile witcher falls to the floor for the third time that evening. Jaskier’s face grows hot as he suddenly becomes hyperaware of the wetness still occasionally oozing from between his legs and the fullness inside of him even now there’s no cocks other than his own within swatting distance.</p><p>“It’s very… unfortunate you happened to come in here,” Eskel says softly, eyes full of regret. “It seems the curse’s been lifted, but… We’re sorry. I know the curse sounds like a lame excuse, and none of us could blame you for… for whatever actions you deem suitable. Rest assured though, we <em>are</em> sterile so at least this won’t result in surprise pups.”</p><p>Jaskier lowers his gaze down to his lap, considering all he’s heard. He can’t help feeling a little disappointed at that, weirdly enough. It’s not like he’d come up here to find anything but stories, but he had always hoped that, once he finally managed to find someone who could stand his scent, that they’d somehow find a way to get him pregnant. He believed it was the sole reason he went only after alphas. He takes a discreet sniff at himself, calming down a little as he notices his scent to be back to almost the same it had been before the unfortunate spider monster attack. Maybe… maybe whatever had transpired here had <em>fixed</em> him?</p><p>“Is... So the curse is why you disappeared? Why witchers left the world many years ago?” Jaskier suddenly asks.</p><p>“Yes,” Eskel answers. “We couldn’t really go amongst people, doing our jobs, if we went crazy whenever crossing paths with omegas.”</p><p>“Huh… I guess so… Wait! You told me there were four of you? Is the fourth one not affected?”</p><p>“You’re right. Our teacher and mentor, Vesemir, happened to be out at our lakeside hut when Lambert literally fucked up, and he was thus spared. For some reason the curse only affected those of us within the keep’s walls. It seems to affect us no matter where we go, but since we can – well, <em>could</em>, smell the curse only here, we figured it was somehow tied to this place, and that it was best no one else entered the keep.” Now that he mentions it, Jaskier notices the strange earthy scent has disappeared. “We’ve been working with Vesemir these past years – he’s been chasing trustworthy mages to break the curse and keeping unsuspecting visitors from entering the valley.</p><p>“It’s very unfortunate that you came here today. Vesemir had… he’d just found someone who could help us and went to send them word. We were meeting him just before he left the valley just as you sneaked in, I believe.”</p><p>Jaskier blushed again, looking almost coyly at his hands. “Sorry about that, really. I came up to the mountains to find stories of— stories, stories to make songs and poems of. And then the snowing started and I figured I’d better check out if this keep could offer shelter and perhaps even some food.” The three witcher’s eyes meet in a way that makes Jaskier doubt this is the first time they’ve heard similar excuse. Apparently he’s not the first bard to roam around the valley, looking for song inspirations of the witcher’s demise. “Anyway! I don’t regret coming here tonight. You see, I had a… curse-like predicament myself, and for some reason it seems it’s gone now, too.”</p><p>“Yeah you did smell just a bit off, now that you mention it,” Lambert comments from the floor. It seems the witcher had just decided to lay down on a fallen fur there. “What was it? Did you anger a sexy witch, too?”</p><p>“No, I. I was attacked by some gigantic spider some years ago,” Jaskier admits, swallowing. He nervously notices he has all six yellow cat eyes focused on him now. “Its poison did something to me, broke me so that… well, I couldn’t go into heat anymore and my scent was off-putting to everyone around me. It seems at least the scent problem is now solved, so. I’m glad this happened…” His voice fades, when bravado gives way to embarrassment once again. He chances a glance at Geralt, then slides his eyes to meet Eskel’s. He smiles faintly. “Would you… would you three mind horribly if me and my horse stayed until spring? Promise I can pull my own weight, I won’t cause any trouble!”</p><p>“Of course,” Eskel says, dumbfounded. “Actually, I don’t think you even could return safely now that the snowing’s started. And it’d be best for the time being that you and Geralt—” Geralt groans and puts his face into his hands. Jaskier takes a worried glance at the white-haired man, wondering if he’s so unpleasant a presence now that he’s acted like a complete slut in front of the alphas that the man can’t stand to look at him anymore. Presenting to all three of them at once, too.</p><p>“Yeah… We’d better let the two of you… talk about it, or something,” Eskel finally concludes, standing up awkwardly and pulling Lambert off the floor. “Do you wish to stay here for the night? I can take… one of the spare rooms, or something.”</p><p>Puzzled, Jaskier just sits there watching as Eskel and Lambert leave the room and shut the door behind them, leaving the bard and the white-haired witcher alone. After a tense moment Geralt stands up, too, and just as Jaskier’s about to panic — for some reason he can’t stand the thought of the alpha leaving him alone — he walks to the fireplace to add two more logs into the fire. When they catch fire the room gets lighter and it’s easier for Jaskier to see the other man. Geralt sighs and comes back to the bed, sitting on the edge of it with his side towards Jaskier. The omega relaxes and just watches the silent man who’s clearly collecting courage to say something important.</p><p>“How… are you feeling?” comes out at last.</p><p>Jaskier takes a moment to consider it. “Good, I think. Tired, a little maimed, perhaps, but I can’t lie, it’s probably been the most satisfying night of my life.” This causes the taciturn alpha to focus his surprised eyes at Jaskier. The bard just shrugs. “You know, the spider attack happened when I’d just presented. Even with scent-dimming potions no one could stand being close to me. Until now, it seems.”</p><p>Jaskier holds the man’s gaze steadily. “I did not lie; I don’t regret what happened.”</p><p>“Because it undid what the spider venom did to you.”</p><p>“Because of that, too.”</p><p>Geralt sighed, glanced at the fireplace. “There’s… something more that happened tonight, something I don’t think you’re aware of since you were kind of… out of it,” he finally mutters. Before Jaskier can ask for some much needed elaboration, Geralt reaches to the table and pulls a small mirror, handing it over to Jaskier. “Your neck.”</p><p>Jaskier takes a look at his reflection and gasps. He lifts his free hand to rub his fingers at his admittedly aching scent gland. Bite marks. Deep, red, <em>permanent</em> bite marks are on his skin. He’s mated. He’s just turned twenty-one and he’s now mated for life. <em>Well that…. that’s not ideal.</em> His eyes flicker to the witcher that can’t meet his eyes. He… could do much worse, at least looks-wise – if only the man didn’t seem to dislike him already. He’s mated to an alpha that’s strong, handsome, very pleasing in bed, and probably strong enough to fend any threat coming their way. Surely skilled enough to provide for Jaskier and their pups, too, and—</p><p>No wait, that’s wrong. The witcher is sterile. There won’t <em>be</em> any pups. Jaskier’s face falls. It’s… it’s actually worse than not ideal. Just being mated to a sterile man means he can never get pregnant. But, on the bright side… <em>what bright side?</em> The man can barely look at him. And, it’s not like he hadn’t accepted the already high <em>possibility</em> that he’d never get to experience pregnancy. It’s just that, now it’s not a possibility but a surety. He bites on his lower lip, trying to get another look at the mirror, just to notice his eyes are filled with unshed tears. He can’t see anything.</p><p>Jaskier drops the mirror in his lap as the first violent sobs escape him. Instinctively he turns to look at his mate, his alpha, seeking for comfort, and finds Geralt looking back at him with a lost look in his eyes. It takes just half a second, but then Geralt is crawling on the bed to him, pulling him to his strong arms and murmuring softly into his hair. Jaskier hides his face in Geralt’s large chest and wails, letting the strong alpha cradle and pet him. The last two weeks have been increasingly distressing, the last few hours emotionally more draining than anything he’s ever experienced. It doesn’t take long until his wails soften to sporadical sobs, until he eventually falls asleep, safe and warm in his mate’s arms.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>When Jaskier comes to, he feels like he’s been sleeping for decades. He’s well rested, but a little disoriented. He can’t stop a small smile forming on his face as he notices he’s still caged by strong arms and the increasingly familiar scent of his mate. The bard’s feeling just a little bit ashamed of his outburst – no can do, no sense crying over spilt milk, and all that. He’d already had years to come to terms with the fact that he’d probably never carry a child inside of him. No biggie.</p><p>“Listen…” Geralt murmurs, petting Jaskier’s head clumsily, keeping it nested under the alpha’s jaw, hiding his face from the younger man. “I’m sorry. I know the situation… isn’t ideal. And that I’m not the ideal mate. I know it means nothing, but if I could, I’d take it back.” Jaskier can feel it against his cheek as the man swallows audibly. “But I promise you, I can and will take care of you. The life of a witcher isn’t easy and safe, but I can… I have a vineyard where you could stay,  if you’d like. I can give it to you. Or… or, I can sell it and we can buy you an estate where ever you’d like. Anything you want, I will work my hardest to give to you.”</p><p>The man’s words sound unpracticed, fragile, sincere. It’s clear he’s been trying to find words while Jaskier was asleep, but hadn’t been able to choose them yet. “And I won’t… be one of those alpha that shackle you to me — you’re free to do whatever you want, be with whomever you want, and I will support you, if you let me.”</p><p>Jaskier carefully lifts his face up, Geralt hesitating only for a fraction of a second before loosening his hold to allow the omega move freely. The omega turns in his arms to take a good look at the witcher, the pain and regret clear in those beautiful yellow eyes. This is clearly a big-hearted man, nothing like the witchers of the cautionary stories spread all over the Continent. His eyes are slightly red-rimmed, the corners of his mouth turned down.</p><p>Jaskier reaches his left hand to rest gently against his mate’s cheek and kisses him softly on the lips. The witcher is clearly surprised, but some of his tension seems to melt away as he eases into the kiss. It’s soft and unhurried, the two of them just getting to know each other’s lips’ shape and taste. Jaskier’s eyes flutter and open slowly when he pulls away.</p><p>“I don’t want to be abandoned alone in some vineyard or estate, alpha,” he murmurs softly. “I’m not cross with you, but since you did just tie me to you, I expect you to take care of me. <em>Personally</em>.”</p><p>Geralt groans, leaning to nuzzle his nose softly against Jaskier’s cheek before he can continue. “I’m sorry for my outburst earlier, too. It’s not like the inability to conceive was something I haven’t had <em>years</em> to get used to. I was already infertile due to the poison, and even if my scent is no longer warped there’s no guarantee I could have become pregnant anyway. I mean – I was <em>clearly</em> in heat before, but… a healthy heat isn’t supposed to just end so suddenly unless I became pregnant, you know? I’m… <em>happy</em> to be tied to someone who wants to look after me. To care for me. It’s more than I’ve ever had, to be honest.”</p><p>The alpha’s arms tighten around him, pulling him impossibly closer. Warm breath fans against his sensitive ear and he tries very hard not to concentrate on that, since they’re clearly having a moment. A shiver runs down his spine anyway, and there’s no way the alpha holding him doesn’t feel that.</p><p>“Take care of you personally I shall, then,” Geralt hums to his ear. Jaskier sighs happily at the feeling of big, warm hands running slowly down his body until they cup his bum. He rolls his hips against Geralt’s stomach, revelling in the feeling of strong, callused fingers kneading him, encouraging him, spreading him. It reminds Jaskier how he’s still stark naked in the clothed witcher’s arms.</p><p>“Yes please,” Jaskier purrs. It doesn’t take long until Geralt is naked and they’re both panting again, exchanging filthy kisses and caressing each other where ever they can reach.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jaskier’s life at the keep, Kaer Morhen, is full of life. He loves bickering with Lambert, raiding the library with Eskel, and being thoroughly screwed by Geralt in every room and nook of the place. Occasionally Eskel or Lambert runs into them, and they end up having threesome – or another memorable foursome. True to his word, Geralt isn’t jealous, though he does make sure no one but him gets to knot Jaskier. The bard finds this adorable. The snow is only starting to lock them in, so the witchers vacate the keep daily to hunt. Meanwhile, Jaskier cleans and cooks, making sure the kitchen is warm and food freshly cooked by the time the alpha return. He pesters the three for stories of monsters and hunts to fuel his songs and poems.</p><p>Days turn into weeks, and Jaskier is happier than ever. He’s also tired more than usually, but it’s to be expected – he’s never spent this much time in bed without getting rest. He sneaks out to have naps once or twice a day. After a month the heavy snow has locked them in the keep and they’ve ran out of fresh meat. Jaskier, not very used to salted and smoked meat, feels slight nausea now and then, but he figures he’ll get used to it sooner or later. He does his best not to let the witchers see; Geralt seems to be a worrywart even without any prompting.</p><p>One morning the omega wakes up to a hilarious sight of Geralt turning and tilting his head around, as if trying to locate a sound. He’s about to ask about it, but snaps his mouth shut at Geralt’s glare. Instead, he just watches the witcher with lips curved in a small smile. It’s impossible not to laugh aloud when Geralt even dips his head upside down to take a look under the bed.</p><p>“What are you doing?”</p><p>“Heard something,” comes the short answer. “Probably a mouse, we should lay some traps in here.”</p><p>Geralt sets mouse traps here and there, even as the other witchers tell him they hadn’t seen or heard anything. Jaskier, who takes care of most of the cleaning in the keep, can’t remember seeing any traces of mice either. He’s never been to a place with so little traces of the rodents. And they don’t even have a cat in here!</p><p>About a week later Jaskier is readying for bed when Geralt gets a funny look on his face. He beckons Jaskier closer and waits patiently until the omega is standing in between his legs, the alpha sitting on the edge of the bed. Geralt tilts his head a few times before pushing his ear to Jaskier’s lower stomach. It’s… weird, alright.</p><p>“Geralt? What are you doing, my mate?”</p><p>Geralt hums, a happy sound. He caresses Jaskier’s flanks. “Tell me honestly, how have you been feeling lately?” He turns his head slightly to peer at the omega’s face. There’s a sly grin on his handsome face.</p><p>“What do you mean?” Jaskier is nonplussed, he has no idea what the witcher means. “Normal, I guess…? A little tired, but— Why? Can you sense illnesses with your witchery senses? Am I getting ill?”</p><p>“I mean… have you had nausea? Food cravings? Sensitive breasts?” Jaskier squints his eyes. He has an inkling of where this is going. But it can’t be. Too good to be true. He won’t get his hopes up. “Jaskier, I can hear a second heartbeat. Coming from <em>inside of you</em>.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>The omega blinks. A second heartbeat. The morning sickness. The constant craving that has made him raid the pantry for some weird small dried fish and dipping them in honey. The fact that his nipples have been too sensitive to let Geralt play with them to his fill. <em>Oh</em>.</p><p>“I…”</p><p>“You’re pregnant, Jaskier.”</p><p>Eyes wide in wonder, Jaskier puts his palms against his flat stomach. Pregnant. A tear slips from the corner of his eye as his lips pull into a wide, happy grin. His eyes shine with unshed tears of happiness. He’s pregnant. He has a beautiful, attentive, loving mate, and they’re expecting a baby. Two men that had been sure they couldn’t ever get a child, and here they are. Jaskier starts laughing, almost hysterically. He pushes Geralt gently until the witcher backs out enough for the bard to climb on him, straddling him on the bed. The alpha’s strong arms circle him, holding him close, and together they can just laugh.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next we’ll get to explore preg!Jask a bit more, ooo!<br/>Sadly, this is as far as I’ve written so far, so it will take a while to get the next update. But it’s coming! <em>I have ideas.... </em></p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Liked it? Want to say hi? Feel like bonding over lusting after Jask and/or the witchers?<br/>Leave a comment and/or find me on Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/TokyoToyRide">TokyoToyRide</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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